Thirst
by every-holmes-for-every-watson
Summary: "My hands would glide back up and down your body, goosebumps waking, and I would bite along your marble skin. I would mark you, taste the sweat beaming off your skin and make you know that you are mine. Are you mine, Sherlock?" John is at work when him and Sherlock have a nice little phone call. Dirtytalk!John. Johnlock. Smut, very little plot.


**John's POV**

"Go lay down, Sherlock," I rumble low onto the phone, "naked. Don't touch yourself. Not yet."

I hear him set the phone down as he takes of his clothes, and within seconds, I hear him talk back into the phone.

"Okay, it's done."

"Can you put the phone on speaker?"

"Yes."

"Do it." I command.

With a whimper, he says, "you're on speaker."

"You like when I take command, don't you? You like when I mark what's mine. Put your hands on your sides." I unzip and release myself, already half hard. "Dammit, Sherlock, I'm at work. The things you do to me should be illegal."

I quickly make sure no one would be coming in my office, and relaxed into my chair.

"Listen and you listen well, Sherlock, understand?"

"Yes."

"Run your fingers over your lips like I do, very light, you barely feel it, and kiss against them. Trace them down your long neck, and pinch your left nipple."

A soft moan echoed to his phone, and I knew he was doing as told.

"Good. Bring your fingers back to your mouth and lick the tip of your fingertips, wet them for me, and go back to the left nipple. Pinch it, Sherlock. Pinch it _hard._" A louder moan emerged, and I couldn't quite remember who was the one who made the noise. "Go to the right nipple. Make sure your fingertips are wet, and pinch it. Circle it, rub it, make them even more sensitive for me. Imagine your wet fingertips as my tongue mapping your nipples. Can you do that, Sherlock? Are you doing it?"

"Yes, John, _yes._"

"Good boy. Slide your hand down your chest, that's me exploring, yes, and stop right at your hips." An angry sigh of impatience let out, and I continued before even thinking about it.

"I would kiss you slowly, intimately, and my lips would steal a petal of breath from you with each touch. Time is irrelevant, the world does not matter, the universe is not in the equation, I would simply spend forever speaking to your lips. My hands would glide back up and down your body, goosebumps waking, and I would bite along your marble skin. I would _mark _you, _taste_ the sweat beaming off your skin and make you know that you are mine. Are you mine, Sherlock?"

"Yes."

"Are you?"

"_Yes, John, touch me."_ Sherlock moans, and I could already vision him clawing at the bed sheets.

"Your elegant neck would scream of the love marks I would plant on you, and I would grin at the wonderful sight I am beholding. Your fingers would grib at the bedsheets, like you are now I'm assuming, your voice pleading for me to_ touch_ you. Your begging would bounce off the walls. My fingers would tangle in your hair and pull, you like that, you like me being in control. Do that, Sherlock, put your hand in your hand and pull. You know how I do it. I would pull so roughly, a few strands falling down to the sheets. I would lick a wet stripe down your face, bite the sensitive skin behind your ear and whisper naughty things. Your breath would become more ragged; I turn you on so much, don't I?"

Sherlock's breath comes in breathier pants, and I knew he was lost in the fantasy. So was I.

"Your whimpers," I continue, "the broken pleas, the shaken touches. I'd pull on your hair, baring your throat, and bite down hard. Crimson blood would spray across my teeth, my mouth watering at the mark. Your nails would scratch down my back, so sharp I start to bleed, and I would pull away. As if I were apologizing, which we both know I'm not, and I would lick the mark, kiss tiny kisses, and guide my hands to your waist. Do you feel my weight on your hips, Sherlock? I would smell the want on you, the smell releasing more shivers down my spine that I feel as if I may explode if I don't have you. I'd speak to you now, telling you how good you're being for me, how beautiful and wrecked you look, and praise your behavior. You'd bask at this, finally getting what you want, getting what you deserve."

"I need you," Sherlock's voice shakes, "please. Just touch me. Take me, I _can't._"

"Soon," I promise. "Now, I'd kiss all over your face, your eyelids, cheeks, nose, and your lips. Our tongues would dance lightly, barely even touching, but just enough stimulation to make us drip with lust. My finger, slick with lube, would tease at your entrance. Your muscle jumps at the feeling, begging for more, _you_ begging for more."

"Go in," Sherlock pushes, "please let me."

"My finger goes in to the knuckle." I hear a drawn out moan, and my cock twitches. I can't, not yet. "I push in and out, gradually opening you, and quickly put in two. Go on, Sherlock. You can take it. I watch as my fingers disappear in that godly arse of yours, and find your prostate."

A cry.

Yes.

_Yes._

_"_You're ready for me, aren't you?" I say, gasping as I finally touch my cock. It's slick with precum. "Your eyes would watch me open up the lube, the orange flavored, it's your favorite, and rub it all over my big cock. Can you see me doing it, Sherlock? _God, _I'm doing it."

"Yes, your skin is shiny with sweat, your nipples so erect, I just want to put them in my mouth. I want to taste the salt on your skin, the want that is all over your body."

I grip at the base of my cock, not wanting to come. "Careful, your voice could end things very soon. Don't want that to happen. Keep your mouth _shut, _Sherlock, I will be the only one talking."

Silence.

"You'll be awarded for how good you're being, Sherlock, such a good slut for me. You'd feel my heat at your entrance, gently pushing it, opening you nice and wide. I wouldn't push in too fast, I don't want to hurt you, but I'd grip harder on your hips. They're going to bruise. When I'd finally be inside of you, our breaths would become one, and silence would overwhelm us both. Within a minute or two, I'd finally move, my length disappearing inside of you. The sight of it would tug at my heart, and our fingers would entwine. I would make the rhythm slow at first, feeling the slickness of our sexes emerge. I want to make this last. Do you feel me taking you apart? Do you feel the pleasure ripping through your skin?"

Wet noises echo onto my phone, gradually the pace going faster.

"I want to keep watching you fall apart. Your moans would consist of curses, pleas, and demands. My pace would increase, my hands disconnecting with yours to grab your hips, and I'd give you all that I'm worth. You would _shout, _certainly the neighbors would hear, and I would keep that noise in my head like I always do. Let me hear you. Speak."

"I feel you fucking me, John, you're fucking me so rough. I feel every move throughout my _whole _body. I-It...I can't..."

My hand loses control on my cock, and I pump myself with an excruciating pace. "You'd clamp around me," I say, louder, losing myself, "your hands trying to find purchase on the bed sheets, and that's when it would happen. Your back would arch as you would be demented in pure bliss. I would let out a wordless cry; and I would pulse inside of you. Do you feel me shoot inside of you, Sherlock, I-I..."

"_John, John, I'm there, I'm RIGHT there, JOHN." _Sherlock chants, his loud curses slamming into my ear.

"I'm there with you, Sherlock, I'm there, _fuck!" _

Semen squirts onto my desk, luckily missing all my files, and I slam my eyes shut. I pump myself until it becomes too sensitive to bare, and I breath heavily on the phone.

"I still need you." Sherlock whispers brokenly.

"Don't you _dare _move from that spot, Sherlock Holmes, because I am going to lick every drip off of you when I get home. I'm on my way."

I end the call, put myself back in my pants, and clean up the mess on the desk (I really need to pay more attention to that next time). Packing up my things as efficient as possible, I find an empty excuse to leave early and catch the first cab my eyes lay on.

"221B Baker Street. I'll pay you twice the fee if you get me there within eight minutes."

"Eight," the taxi man said, already pulling away, "why such an exact time?"

"Things I need to tend to," I say, feeling my cock already twitch in my pants, "badly."

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><p><strong>Well, I hope you guys liked it! This was my first time really trying out dirty talk, pardon if it wasn't the best. I thought it was pretty decent. Thanks for reading!(: <strong>


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